


Flower

by Wafflesrock



Series: The Moments Between [6]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Established Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, F/M, Fluff, Interspecies Sex, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia, set post tango scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 08:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30002076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wafflesrock/pseuds/Wafflesrock
Summary: The tango set the mood, but the real show of reach and flexibility came later, when Garrus and Shepard were back at their hotel room.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Series: The Moments Between [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757308
Comments: 26
Kudos: 54





	Flower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squiggly_squid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiggly_squid/gifts).



Garrus couldn’t help the swagger to his gait as he and Shepard left the throbbing music of the club and stepped out into the artificial night of the Citadel. 

This evening had been nothing short of phenomenal. He might have botched the role play when he ran out of lines and then couldn’t remember the suave alias he’d come up with, but the dance moves Cortez had taught him really _did_ make the ladies swoon--even Shepard. 

The look she’d given him when their dance ended, legs still intertwined, breathing hot and heavy, eyes like black moons rimmed with green...he didn’t need to ask “hotel?” to know the answer would be a resounding “hell yes!”

Garrus keyed in the request for a skycab with Shepard pressed closely against his side, her tight black dress leaving little to the imagination. The curve of her slim waist and that _spectacular_ ass. Mmm. Enough to make any blood boil, whether it be red or blue. 

He turned to look down at his girlfriend, _his girlfriend,_ and say something witty, or maybe salacious, but his words evaporated into an airy gasp as Shepards’s small hand cupped his crotch. A smirk as dark as her eyes spread across her lips as her thumb rubbed along the length of his seam, coaxing him to unsheathe. 

“Shepard,” he whined, lust and desire throbbing in his subvocals. 

She chuckled, hand moving more urgently against him. 

As if on cue, the skycab appeared, gliding to a stop and opening its doors to the relative privacy of the interior. Garrus exhaled as Shepard pulled away to step inside. His civvies felt stifling and his seam had parted and his pants were damp, but damn if he didn’t pull it together to input their hotel coordinates! 

No sooner had the cab lifted into the air with a soft whoosh of its ion engine, then Shepard was back in his space again. This time, he was ready for her. He spread his legs and helped pull her onto his lap, her dress riding up her ass as their hips came flush. 

“Spirits Shepard,” he whispered in husky vocals. A hand fisted into her thick red hair, another settling on her thigh to hold her close as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck. She smelled like ozone and steel with a citrus scent from her shampoo. _An exotic flower._ Though he doubted anyone else would think of a flower when they saw Commander Jane Shepard. 

“Fuck, Garrus.” Shepard groaned as he laved a heated trail along the column of her neck with his tongue. Her hands flew behind his head, fingers massaging the sensitive patch of hide beneath his fringe. 

Garrus’ vocals thrummed and he rocked against her. Despite her underwear and his leggings, they were both sodden and Garrus moaned loudly as he came unsheathed. Trapped between his pants and Shepard’s warmth, he ground against her, the friction making stars explode in his vision. 

“Ah, Shepard…” his words trailed off into subvocals beneath the range of human hearing. She rocked into him, hot breath fanning out against his neck. 

He felt like he was burning; plates and flesh hot to the touch and a raging need between his legs. He fumbled to squeeze Shepard’s breasts beneath the taut fabric of her dress. She wasn’t wearing a chest harness- _-bra_ \--and he could feel her nipples peak as he carefully grazed a talon over them.

“Garrus.” His name was plea on her lips. She pressed impossibly closer, skin slick with sweat. 

He was on the verge of shredding her underwear and taking her in the cab when they landed with a monotone buzz of the console. 

They didn’t exit the cab so much as stumble out of it in a disheveled heap of rumpled clothing and labored breathing. Garrus’ visor registered a pair of asari pointing at them, and a salarian’s eyes narrowed in distaste as they stepped into the cool air of the hotel lobby. 

_We probably reek of sex even though we haven’t gotten that far. Yet._ Garrus gripped Shepard around the waist, giving a wide breadth to the krogan waiting by the concierge desk. They managed to make it inside the elevator and punch in their floor before Shepard was tugging on his cowl, pulling his face down for a deep, passionate kiss. 

Fleetingly, Garrus recalled hours spent watching elevator footage while still a junior detective in C-Sec. Inevitably people did stupid things in elevators. Muggings, drug deals...violations of public decency. Somewhere they were making some bored security guard’s night. Garrus decided he didn’t give a damn as he licked Shepard’s lips in silent request. He tangled his tongue with hers, relishing in her needy whimper. 

“When we get in that room,” he rumbled over dusky subharmonics. “The _things_ I’m going to do to you.”

“Yeah?” Shepard said, a giggle on the end of the word. She pulled back a fraction to look at him. “What kinds of _things,_ Vakarian?”

Before he could answer the elevator opened onto their floor. The top level suite. Shepard had insisted that they stay at a hotel tonight instead of Anderson’s apartment or the Normandy. He’d at least managed to pay for it before she could--probably trying to finagle a discount along the way. As her boyfriend, he had to treat her to some stuff, and an evening in an opulent--and incredibly expensive--hotel room was something his advisor’s salary actually allowed him to do. 

Garrus hummed as the door to their room closed with a sense of finality. He walked behind Shepard, wrapping her in his arms. “What kinds of things?” he purred, repeating her previous question. “Hmm. For starters,” he ran his hands up her waist, dragging her dress up with them. “I’m going to take this off.”

Shepard obligingly raised her arms as he pulled the garment over her head and tossed it aside. He then quickly pulled off his gloves, wanting to feel her skin beneath his palms. Shepard was a soldier and toned muscle lay under her impossibly smooth skin. Soft and strong, supple and unyielding. Unyielding, except for _him._

Still standing behind her Garrus ran blunted talons down her sides. Her skin prickled in their wake and she gasped, head tilting back and rear rubbing against his erection. _Fuck._ Garrus clamped his mandibles tightly against his face. He wouldn’t last long at this rate. But he wanted to draw out the moment. Pretend there was no war, no Reapers, no responsibility. Just the two of them, mostly naked and alone, shamelessly fucking each other’s brains out. 

He allowed his hands to wander lower, until they came to the small, wet scrap of fabric covering Shepard’s core. He tugged on them, rumbling in question. He could hear the smile in Shepard’s voice when she said “I packed extras.”

He easily ripped them off, the smell of her arousal fogging his senses with lust. 

“What are you going to do next?” Shepard asked, a hand moving to stroke him through his pants. 

Garrus sputtered, shaking his head to try and focus. _“This,”_ he said, hoping she didn’t hear the whine in his subvocals. He traced a finger through Shepard’s sodden folds, circling the nub at her entrance with practiced ease. Bending his thumb he rubbed against her, groaning in time as Shepard trembled in his arms, hands gripping his wrist and thigh.

“Garrus, bed,” she managed. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Setting down his visor, he hurried over to the plush, turian style bed unclasping his tunic as he went. Shepard struggled with the finer fastenings of his clothing and he didn’t want to ruin the mood with her inability to pull his shirt off. 

No sooner had the fabric fallen loose than she was on him. She pounced like a _pardus,_ pinning him against the mattress. He helped her tug his tunic off and slowly she lowered her head, placing feather-light kisses on the unplated hide of his waist. She trailed lower, catching the hem of his leggings in her teeth and pulling them down to his knees in a feral display that made his cock twitch. 

He knew what she was planning but he wasn’t ever truly prepared for the sensation of her mouth over him. She bobbed her head up and down, using a hand to pump along his thick base. Her tongue played over the ribbed underside of his shaft making his toes curl as he clawed the bed sheets. Shepard was good at this. _So good._ Sometimes she surprised him in the main battery. _A mid-morning blow job_ she’d called it. Sometimes it ended with Garrus bending her over the battery consul and pounding into her as she tried not to cry out in ecstasy. 

He felt heat coil in his lower abdomen. Not yet. Not until she came first. 

“Sta--stop!” he managed. 

Shepard raised her face, chin wet and gleaming in the dim light.

“My turn,” he managed, lifting up onto his elbows to drag her onto the bed. As Shepard settled onto the mattress, Garrus stood and finished pulling off his pants and shoes before assuming a position between Shepard’s thighs. The scent of her arousal made his head spin.

He ran his tongue along the length of her slit, positioning his smooth upper mouth plate to rub against her clit. He pushed inside, curling his tongue and eliciting a ragged gasp. He flicked out his mandibles as he fucked Shepard with his tongue, driving her closer and closer to the edge. 

Shepard arched her back and groaned, crying out his name as her completion drew near. He continued his relentless pace until her thighs clamped around his head and she came with a drawn out moan. 

His cock throbbed almost painfully as his hindbrain screamed at him to bury himself inside Shepard’s wet, tight center. 

Crawling onto the bed beside her, Garrus instead tugged her close and pressed his brow to hers in a turian display of intimacy. “Want me to take top?” he whispered into the scant space between them.

“I have a better idea,” Shepard replied, eyes flashing with inspiration. She moved to lay on her side before lifting one of her legs high into the air. She smirked at him over her shoulder. “You _did_ say your dance moves were even better in bed.”

Garrus huffed out a breathless laugh as he moved to straddle her prong leg. He stroked himself as he aligned with her entrance. Slowly he pushed inside. Shepard was a silken vice and he gasped when he came flush. Then he was thrusting into her, cradling her raised leg against the side of his face. He caressed her calf with a mandible as Shepard gave a choked cry, hands fisting the bed sheets. 

His focus narrowed to the beautiful woman beneath him. The sound of wet plate and flesh coming together, the musky scent of their combined arousal. Shepard, Jane, his flower, felt perfect, _was_ perfect. Spirits, he could spend the rest of his life making love to her and knew each time would leave him as breathless as the first. 

Shepard clamped down on him as she came with an enthusiastic “yes!” He followed quickly, pumping into her four more times before he was sobbing out his own release in both sets of vocals. 

In the slow, drunken movements that accompanied mind blowing sex, they lay curled together on the mattress, chests heaving and fingers entwined. Garrus’ subvocals sang in devotion and love, a song as old as the turians race themselves. While he knew Shepard couldn’t hear it, she’d mentioned that she could feel his subharmonics when he held her. Like now. 

“We should do this again,” Shepard murmured into the stillness. 

“Mmm. A couple more times,” Garrus agreed, eyes closed. “Maybe on the sofa next time. The shower. Up against the wall.”

Shepard snorted, planting a kiss on his chin. “I meant get a hotel room and pretend we’re other people. People without the weight of the galaxy on their shoulders.” She sighed, sagging against him. 

Garrus moved a hand to caress her cheek. “My girlfriend can go by whatever name she wants, but she always sees the mission through. Whether it's killing Reapers or seducing a dashing turian soldier on shore leave, she always wins in the end.”

That earned a chuckle. Shepard moved to look up into his eyes. “I couldn’t do this without you,” she said. 

Garrus felt a lump form in his throat. “Sure you could,” he said, pressing their brows together. “But you don’t have to. I’m with you, no matter what.”

“In all the different positions and angles?” Shepard smiled as some of the sorrow drifted from her gaze. 

“Damn right,” Garrus purred. “In fact, there _is_ another dance move I could show you. It requires the couch though.” He nodded to the large sofa with its velvet cushions. “And maybe your high heels.”

Then Shepard was leading him toward the couch by the hand, lower lip trapped between her teeth in a playful grin he felt she reserved only for him. Tonight was definitely going to be one to remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be real. Everyone KNOWS Garrus got some sweet femshep lovin' after that tango.


End file.
